Don't Take the Work Home
by MadBat27
Summary: Agent J has an unpleasant visit from the relative of one of his 'assignments'. Action-based, one-shot.


J woke to a sound like Big Ben tolling by his ear. DING DONG!

His eyes were blurry and his head fuzzy. The room span. Wincing, he racked his brains. All he could remember was a series of flashes. A black suit, a strange gun, an old guy who didn't know how to smile. Strange dreams, he thought sullenly. With a head full of aliens, secret agencies, and talking dogs it was no wonder he felt rough.

And then it hit him. It wasn't a dream was it?

DING DONG! Bit by bit, he remembered who he was, and who he wasn't anymore. Weird how after all this time he still woke up feeling like it was all in his head. Every morning, he had to remind himself that it really happened.

But on this occasion, it was harder than usual. His head felt like a bowling ball, halfway down an alley with plenty of top spin. Licking his lips, he tasted the fur on his tongue and the dryness of his mouth. There was tequila on his breath.

DING DONG!

Who'd he been drinking with? Smart money was on the worms. Sure as Hell wasn't his partner. K was long gone, and so was L. Nobody could fill those boots.

J looked around. However good the night had been, he'd come home alone. He rose from the bed like a zombie come back to life, and shuffled to the bedroom door, wearing only his boxers. From the way his eyes bounced around the room, he could tell he'd been drinking like a fish.

DING DONG!

The doorbell was killing him. Cringing, J staggered through the apartment. White walls reflected the early morning sun, hurting his eyes. His arm barely shaded his vision well enough to make out the door.

DING DONG! DING DONG! DING DONG!

"I'm coming, I'm coming! Jeeze. I'm COMING," Jay yelled. He threw open the door. "WHAT?"

At the door, towering above him was a six-foot creature with blue scaly skin, a long boneless neck and at least four rows of tiny, needle-like teeth. Two vinyl sized eyes protruded from either side of its head, with two beady black pupils glaring from the orange. It was somewhere between Human, piranha and electric eel, using only the ugliest parts.

"I mean," J squeaked, swallowing hard. "How can I help you on this fine morning?"

The creature roared and lashed out with a fin-covered arm, throwing J back across the room. He landed with a crash on top of the wooden coffee table. Unwashed coffee mugs and old beer bottles scattered, many shattering on the linoleum floor.

J groaned.

"I am so _not_ in the mood for this."

With another low throaty growl, the alien creature stalked across the room and lifted J by the throat. The smell of raw meat washed over J as the creature's razor-sharp teeth neared his face. Legs dangling in the air, the agent struggled, pulling at the rough hands of his attacker, trying to force its grip open, but all to no avail.

"You killed my father," the fish-thing announced in a deep death-rattle.

"No kidding," J replied breathlessly. "You'd think I'd remember a public service like that."

The piranha's pupils shrank to tiny pin-pricks – a reaction Agent J gauged as fury – and the next moment J had been launched across the room. This time he landed heavily against the cabinet under the sink.

Looking up, he saw the false fireplace and the fake poker by its side. If he could just get over there in time, he knew he'd have a chance of escape. Unbidden, he remembered one of the first rules K had ever taught him: _Don't bring the work home with you, slick_.

"You paint the walls of a hospital with my father's guts," Piranha bellowed. "And you don't remember?"

The thought of fish guts, added to the smell of blood and meat, and his already uneasy stomach, left him retching. Taking a deep breath, J swallowed hard and scrambled to his feet. He looked up, and the bright sunlight caught his eyes through the blinds.

Suddenly, the memories all came flooding back, pushing the pain behind his eyes to one side. Now he knew why he was drinking. They'd been celebrating. After weeks of staking the place out, they'd finally caught up with the carnivorous man-eating alien stealing cadavers from the hospital. And as Junior had said, they'd painted the town.

"Damn," J said, happily. "You're Smiley's kid? Now I know why they call him that. He looked a lot more human when I blew his head off. Not much prettier, though, I've got to admit. Man, was he a fish out of the water. But I guess you knew that already."

As Junior howled with rage, J sprinted toward the fireplace. He reached out with his right hand and tugged on the disguised lever, activating the hidden stash of weapons. With a hiss and a mechanical grind and clunk, the guns were exposed.

Even as J reached for the noisy cricket closest to hand, a cold, wet, rubbery limb enclosed around his leg. He felt himself being dragged back even as he snatched at the armoury, and before he knew it he was off the ground.

The room span – this time nothing to do with alcohol. Held by the ankle, he was swung around and around, the blood rushing to his already heavy head. He knew where this was going. Apparently, the piranha only had one attack pattern.

"Will. You. Stop. Throwing. Me."

With his ankle released, J hurtled into the couch, upending it with a thump.

J moaned in pain and rolled onto his front. In his left hand, he held a small silver orb, the size of a baseball. Glowing blue lines traversed the sphere, like the seams on leather. At the top, was a small blue circle. J smiled.

"Hook," he said, pressing the blue circle with his thumb. "Line."

The circle turned red. As Piranha Jnr. Closed in, J rushed toward the door and chucked the orb behind him. It landed with a clink in the centre of the room, just ahead of the alien. A second later it began to hum.

"Sinker."

J dived out of the door, letting it swing shut behind him just as the bomb went off. The explosion ripped through the apartment, trashing the furniture and smashing windows. The whole building shook with the force of it, and the door was left hanging on its hinges. Through the gap, J could see the flames, smoke and fish guts.

He sighed with relief and sat back against the wall opposite his apartment door. Glancing to his left, he noticed two other in the corridor. One male, one female, each laden with leaflets about double glazing windows. They both looked taken aback.

"Damn," J breathed. "You sales people like sharks."


End file.
